


For I Have Sinned

by AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Version After 7x23/7x24, Angst, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4514667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell/pseuds/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has to remember who she is. Has to remember that Lauren Reynolds never existed. But it's a lie. Isn't it?<br/>Lauren had never been the problem. Emily was.<br/>She looks up and meets her own gaze in the mirror above the sink, a familiar voice whispering in her head: "You miss her too, love, don't you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	For I Have Sinned

**For I Have Sinned**

**.**

**.**

_\- As an undercover agent, you have to tell your lies close to the truth._ _It's the thing you learn first.-_

**.**

* * *

**-Forgive Me-**

**.**

It's dark and cold, the smell of incense triggering memories long supressed. She walks slowly down the aisle, one step after another, taking her time until she's up front facing the cross on the wall, right behind the altar.

It's been almost thirty years since she's been to church and Emily Prentiss isn't sure what she's supposed to feel. She kneels down in the second row with her head bowed and her eyes closed. The silence unbearable and she wishes she could be somewhere else.

When she hears footsteps coming closer she looks up, meets Ian's pale blue eyes in the aisle next to her. He nods, smiles.

"Time for your last confession, love."

She follows him, allows him to lead the way with his hand on the small of her back. Warm and gentle and _sure._

When she sits down in the confessional, her eyes are closed. Hot tears start to burn behind her lids, while she waits for the priest to speak.

"Can I help you child?"

 _No,_  Emily thinks.  _You can't._

 _"Forgive me father,"_ she starts hoarsely. _"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned._ "

.

* * *

**I**

**-Cracks In The Foundation-**

**.**

It's a flower, a lilac Freesia, left on the windshield of her car, that makes Emily stop midsentence, her phone still pressed against her ear.

"I'll be right there," she tells Garcia, her eyes darting through the dark. Searching for an all too familiar face in the shadows of the underground parking garage.

But there's no one there.

_Of course not._

She shakes her head, furious with herself, before she rips the flower away. Crushing its delicate petals between her fingertips.

_._

She forgets to put on a vest and she doesn't realize it until there's a gun pointed at her. She doesn't move, doesn't even blink- only waits. Hopes it'll happen fast.

There's a single gunshot, followed by warm blood splattering her face. The man hits the floor and Emily meets Morgan's gaze from across the room. His gun still raised.

She's standing in the shower an hour later, watches the blood run down her naked skin, watches the water turn crimson.

She feels nothing. Nothing at all.

.

She's restless and she can't stop picking her nails. Her head hurts, her eyes sting and the urge to scream is overwhelming.

"Emily?"

She blinks and finds Aaron watching her from across the table.

"Did you hear what I just said?" he frowns.

Emily closes her eyes in defeat.

_I can't do this._

"Emily? Are you alright?"

"I'm sorry," is all she mutters, not sure what she's apologizing for, before she gets up and leaves without looking back.

.

It's the middle of the night when she runs into Aaron at the office. He shouldn't be there, not at this time of the day. He should be at home with Jack or going out with Beth, that woman he just met. But he is here just like she is, and his reasons might just be the same as hers.

When he lifts his head, he looks tired and lonely and for a second Emily hesitates. He's not hers to take, he's never been and he never will. Maybe she shouldn't give in. Maybe-

In the end it's he who makes the decision and crosses the room in two strides. Their lips meeting in a heated kiss long before the door falls shut behind them.

But he's too careful, his touch too gentle and _it's all wrong._  She's not the woman he thinks she is. And she surely isn't looking for love.

She closes her eyes, silently scolding herself. She should have known how it would end. Should have known that it wouldn't make her,  _or him,_  feel any better.

He keeps whispering into her ear and Emily wishes she could just tell him  _to hurry up_  and get it over with. She just wants to leave.

She wishes she could feel guilty, but she feels nothing. Nothing at all.

.

_10_

Emily's eyes are fixed on the bloody red number of the timer, counting down the seconds. Her mind is reeling, her hands shaking while she rattles out certain facts, talking mostly to herself.

9

Will keeps yelling at her to get out and she just wants him  _to shut the fuck up_  so she can think. She has to do this, she has to save him. There is no other option.

_8_

She has to do this for JJ. For JJ and Henry and for her team.

7

She has to make up for all the things she's done, for all the lies she told. For the ones she's still telling. _It's time to atone for her sins._

6

She keeps talking, trying to solve the puzzle, trying to figure out the code, but her heart is beating too fast. Her hands wet with sweat.

5

She won't make it.

4

There's no way she will. She's going to die. This time she won't be able to cheat death.

3

She feels a smile tug at the corners of her mouth and at the last second, all she feels is relief. _It'll be over soon._

_2_

She pulls at the yellow wire for Will. The least she can do is try because  _he_  doesn't deserve to die.

1

When the timer stops all she can do is stare.

"How did you do that?" Will asks, his voice still on edge, breathing hard.

"I didn't overthink it," Emily mutters, unable to tear her eyes away from the now disabled bomb. She hears Aaron call her name over the earpiece, but she can't bring herself to answer.

"Emily?" This time it's Will and she knows she should untie him, but she can't move. She stares at her hands, stares at the wire she just pulled, the one that saved not only Wills life but hers as well.

She hears laughter and it takes her a moment to realize it's her.

The bomb squad finally shows and she's laughing even harder. She's pulled back up to her feet, still laughing. She just nods, not sure what the man in front of her wants and not caring either. They should have showed up a minute ago.

.

Emily finds herself standing outside the building with no recollection how she got there. She blinks rapidly against the sunlight, vaguely aware of the people around her.

She stumbles forward, not sure where she's going. She thinks she hears someone call for her again, but instead of slowing down she keeps walking faster fumbling with her vest.

There are black dots dancing in front of her eyes and her breathing sounds wrong in her ears. But she can't stop, knows she needs to keep going. Knows she needs to get away as far as possible.

She pushes past people, makes her way through the crowd even when it feels like she's not moving an inch. When someone grabs her from behind, she's so disoriented that she doesn't fight it.

When she blinks, she finds Aaron. He asks her something but she doesn't get it. There's a strange ringing in her ears, a ringing that gets louder and louder. There's also a bright light, a light that seems to come closer and closer and she just wants it to go away. Along with everything else.

Aaron is still talking, one hand around her wrist to keep her from moving, but Emily only wonders if Will noticed that moment when her hands stopped shaking. Wonders if he saw the relief in her eyes when she thought she was going to die. Wonders if he's going to tell. Wonders what will happen if he does.

.

Emily knows she shouldn't have come the second she steps out off her car, but it's too late. Reid has already seen her. Emily pushes herself to smile, clutching her purse against her body. She takes the glass of champagne Reid offers and keeps a tight grip on it without ever taking a sip. She laughs and nods and wishes JJ and Will all the best.

When Aaron tries talking to her, she just shakes her head and tells him that it's not the time. Promises that she'll talk to him first thing tomorrow morning even though she already knows she won't. She left her badge on his desk at the BAU on her way to the wedding, together with a small note begging him to let her go this time.

_Some things you just can't fix._

Unseen, she slips away and with one last look back at her team, she heads in the direction of the driveway.

She wishes she felt sorry, but she feels nothing. Nothing at all.

**.**

* * *

**II**

**-Where We Belong-**

**.**

When she lands it's raining. The sky over London a deep gray, the crisp air soothing her burning cheeks.

The penthouse is cold and empty, all stainless steal and leather just like she left it. She leaves her coat and her bag on the couch, too tired to take it upstairs with her. She makes her way to the bathroom to take a shower, not even surprised to find her favorite things still in the top drawer.

In nothing but one of Clyde's buttton-down shirts she slips between the black satin sheets of  _their_  bed, her eyes falling shut as soon as her head hits the pillow.

.

When she wakes up, she's no longer alone. There's a warm body next to hers, her back close against a solid chest.

"When did you decide to come back, darling?" Clydes asks her, his lips close against her ear and Emily nestles even closer into his arms, wishing there were no clothes separating them.

She says nothing, reaches for his hand instead to guide him down where she needs him. A silent plea to set her free, instead of asking any more questions.

He obliges just like she knew he would, has her toppling over the edge in the blink of an eye and when she  _comes_ , the tears come too.

.

She's sitting behind her new desk in her new office,  _all black and white and shiny,_  looking out of the window and into a clear blue sky. The familiar London skyline right in front of her.

"I really missed this."

Emily looks up and finds Clyde leaning against her door, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His deep blue eyes filled with longing.

"I'm here now," she answers lightly. "Can I help you with something?" she adds with a smug smile and raised brows, knowing all too well what he's waiting for. Silently she watches as he locks the door behind him, closing all the blinds with the flick of the switch next to the door.

"Actually I thought I could help you," he smirks. "What do you think about christening that new desk of yours?"

.

There's a lilac Freesia lying in plain sight next to her phone a week later.

"Did you put the flower there?" Emily asks her assistant,  _Thea,_  the second she brings her a cup of coffee.

"No," Thea looks puzzled. "Do you want me to find a vase or-"

"No," Emily cuts her off. "Just throw it away, please."

.

"When did you decide to come back?" Clyde asks her again, standing next to her in the kitchen while she's looking through their mail.

Emily meets his gaze, his face grim and stoic and she knows that instead of calling  _her_ , Aaron obviously had called  _him._  Emily rolls her eyes. She should have known.

"It's not what you think," she says.

Clyde laughs. It sounds cold and bitter and not like him at all. "I'm sorry, darling," he drawls. "I forgot you're a posh FBI profiler. Please enlighten me and tell me what am I thinking?"

"It had nothing to do with him," Emily snaps. Angry about his smug tone and the way he's looking at her.

"Just keep telling yourself that," Clyde's voice sounds calm, but his eyes tell her something else. She looks after him while he walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs, listens to his footsteps until the door to the bathroom falls shut behind him.

Emily bites her lip and shakes her head, mad at Aaron and Clyde and herself, when she catches sight of a familiar handwriting in the mail she's still holding. It's a plain white envelope with no stamps, only her name written on top.

She throws it away without opening it.

.

"I decided to come back after I disabled a bomb and realized I wish I hadn't," is what Emily tells him later.

They're in the shower, her naked body pressed against the wall. Clyde's hands holding her up. She knows it's not the answer he'd been looking for, but it's the only one she's ready to share.

"But you already knew that, didn't you?" Emily wonders, her lips trailing down his neck and her hands on his hips bringing him closer towards her.

It's not enough, not anymore. Maybe it won't be ever again.

**.**

* * *

**III**

**-I Still Remember-**

_._

The first time she goes to see Declan, the sun is shining from a cloudless sky. The leaves already turned brown and yellow and red.

When she made her way over the school ground and reaches his house, she finds him already waiting for her. He's sitting on the front steps, wearing Eton's typical school uniform. His blonde hair is falling into his eyes, just a little too long and just like she remembers. He offers her a sheepish smile when he spots her, hesitant and uneasy, but only for a second before he's on his feet and in her arms.

He shows her around, proud and happy.  _Full of life._  He tells her that he's still playing soccer and corrects himself a second later, remembering that in Britain they call it football. His cheeks redden when he admits that he's singing in the choir and he seems to grow in height when tells her about his grades.

Emily can't stop smiling.

It had been her idea, but it had been Clyde who arranged everything. Who talked Tom into leaving the States, who got them a house in Berkshire and who enrolled Declan in Eton.  _Who keeps paying for the boy's education without ever mentioning it._

Sometimes Emily wonders if she might be not the only one feeling guilty.

_._

"I miss him," Declan tells her later when he's walking her back to her car. A shadow crossing his pale blue eyes. "I know I shouldn't, but I still miss him."

There's no need to ask who he's talking about.

"Yeah," Emily nods, her hand reaching for Declan's. "Me too."

**.**

* * *

**IV**

**-It'll Never Be The Same Again, Trust Me I Know-**

**.**

"Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"I've been busy."

"With what, darling? Staring out the bloody window?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Emily watches Clyde settle down in a chair in front of her desk. He looks tired and angry and she knows this isn't just about her not answering her phone.

"What happened?" he asks and his voice makes clear that it's not the time to bullshit him.

At first she says nothing, keeps watching the dark clouds on the horizon instead. Wondering why it feels so wrong all off a sudden.

"How did we end up here?" is what she asks, before she turns around to face him.

Clyde frowns. "Excuse me?"

"Do you remember that first summer we spend in Cornwall together?"

"I don't particularly remember that summer, but I remember you," Clyde answers with a soft chuckle. His anger suddenly gone. "You were eight and stubborn as hell. You drove me crazy even back then."

Emily laughs. She looks back at him and for a second all she sees is  _that boy,_ the boy he'd been when she first met him. Blonde hair falling into his eyes, his Eton uniform rumpled and torn at the elbows. His bow tie missing. He'd been a rebel, fighting against everyone and everything.  _Except her._  And she remembers sitting next to him in a tree house in Cornwall, making a life-long commitment to never grow up, to never become like the people they hated most.

"We became like them, didn't we?"

"Like whom?"

"Our parents," Emily answers. "We promised each other not to, promised each other for years and yet here we are. Living the same messed up life we despised."

Clyde sighs and rubs his eyes.

"Tell me what happened, Emily." He sounds annoyed, his voice laced with anger once more. "Did he call you? Did he ask you to come back to DC again?"

Emily shakes her head. "No, that's not-"

"Emily!"

"Do you even listen?" she snaps. "This is what I'm talking about!"

She doesn't wait for his answer before she leaves.

.

They're fighting again, why it started, Emily isn't even sure.

"Would you bloody wait, Em!" Clyde yells, coming after her. Stops her with his hand around her wrist in the hallway, his deep blue eyes furious when she whirls around to face him.

"Why? You aren't listening anyway!"

"I have no idea what this is about! You're talking nonsense!"

"Am I?" Emily scowls. "Than why did you want me back here anyway? Why did you ask me to come home  _every fucking_  time we talked!"

"Because I  _bloody_  love you!"

"Do you?"

She knows it has been a mistake the second she says it. But it's too late. This time when she pulls away he doesn't hold her back.

.

When Aaron calls to ask for her help with a case she says yes. She isn't sure who's more surprised, him or her.

Clyde just laughs. "You gonna run away again?"

He's watching her pack from the doorway to their bedroom, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes blue and cold and distant.

"It's just a case," Emily answers. Stuffing yet another blouse in her bag.

"Is it?" Clyde teases.

This time Emily stays quiet.

**.**

* * *

**V**

**-Running In Circles-**

**_._ **

They're at a bar and Emily feels like screaming. But of course she doesn't. She smiles and nods and takes another shot of tequila instead. Pretends to be happy that they managed to close that case in less than twelve hours. But the truth is, she isn't happy and Clyde had been right.

The bar is too crowded, the air filled with too much smoke and everyone is standing just a little too close. Her phone keeps ringing in her jacket pocket and at one point Emily just shuts it down.

Aaron keeps staring at her from across the table, his dark eyes full of longing and Emily wishes she could just grab him by the collar of his white button-down and give in. But she can't and it wouldn't help and so she doesn't. Takes another shot of Tequila even when her sight is already swimming.

She's on her way to the counter, trying to carry five glasses at once, when she catches sight of a familiar face in the crowd. She blinks in surprise and drunk as she is, stumbles. Before she can grab on to something, she falls.

There's a stinging pain in her wrist, something warm and wet and sticky coating her bare skin and when she looks down at herself all she sees is red. Crimson spilling from a deep cut on her wrist, broken glass glistening on the dirty floor all around her.

Someone is calling her name, the voice sounds worried and Emily briefly wonders why but she's busy with scanning the room. Her eyes searching for  _his_  familiar face, those pale blue eyes she'd seen just a moment ago. But whoever she's seen, he's gone now and the room is spinning so fast she has to close her eyes to keep from vomiting.

Everything hurts.

It makes her smile for the first time in months.

.

Her clothes are stiff with dried blood and Emily's glad she's wearing black, otherwise she would have looked like someone tried to murder her. _Or worse like a murderer._

There's a young man in blue scrubs to her right and Reid to her left, telling the poor intern how to stitch up her wrist  _the right way,_  so it wont leave scars.

Emily keeps quiet, wishes Reid would go home and just leave her be, but of course he insists on staying with her.  _Someone has to, right?_  And suddenly she's glad it's only Reid and not Aaron.

Reid takes her back to her hotel two hours later, hovering in the doorframe just a little longer than necessary.

"Did it help?" he asks and Emily frowns.

"Did what help?" she asks, her head spinning from pain medication and blood loss and alcohol.

"Running away," Spencer whispers.

_._

"Why did you leave?" JJ asks her.

They're sitting in her living room, Emily with a glass of wine. JJ with a glass of water, a hand protectively over her pregnant belly.

Emily shrugs. "I just couldn't stay."

"But you came back," JJ states and Emily looks away.

"I always do," she whispers before she downs her glass. "I won't stay," she adds a second later and puts the glass back on the table. "It's just till you're back."

"Will told me, you know."

Emily's gaze flicks back to JJ, the worried look on the blonde's face makes her stomach turn.

"He told me about those last moments in that building last year," JJ clarifies. "Those seconds before you managed to disable the bomb. He told me about the relief on your face a second before it went off and your dismay when it didn't."

Emily shakes her head. "I don't know what you're talking about." She gets to her feet, closes her eyes when she finds the room spinning. She's not drunk, but she's not sober either.

"Let me help you, Em," JJ says, a hand on her wrist and Emily isn't sure what she means.

"I'm fine," Emily answers, pulling carefully away. "I'm fine."

.

"It wasn't about cracks in the foundation, was it?" Morgan asks her. She looks up from her untouched cup of coffee.

"No," Emily shakes her head, leans back on her seat and looks out of the window and into the clouds.

"There were notches in the kitchen doorframe. Notches to mark the size of a kid. The frame was painted over but you could still read the name next to the dates."

"Declan," Morgan states. Understanding crossing his features.

Emily feels a slight tug at the corners of her mouth. "It was a sign," she whispers.

.

She shows up in front of his apartment in the middle of the night. She already knows Jack isn't there, overheard Aaron talking to Rossi on the jet about a school trip.

She doesn't give him the time to ask her what she's doing there, only grabs him by the collar of his shirt and stumbles with him into the darkness of his living room.

"We shouldn't do this," he tells her later. They're lying next to each other on the living room floor, their clothes scattered around the room, listening to the rain drum against the windows. "It's not what you want," Aaron adds and Emily hates how sad he sounds.

She turns her head, her fingertips tracing the side of his face. "I don't know what I want," she whispers. Wishing she could at least be what  _he needs._

"Maybe you should figure it out first."

Emily laughs. "I'm afraid one day I will."

.

Emily's sitting at her desk, staring at the closed door to Rossi's office. It's late and she should go home, back to her hotel. But that doesn't sound as appealing as it should and so she's the only one still sitting here, pretending to do some paperwork.

Picking the lock to Rossi's office is easy, even though neither nice nor polite and Emily makes herself a mental note to replace the bottle of bourbon she knows he keeps there, first thing tomorrow morning. At least that's what she keeps telling herself when she grabs the bottle from its hiding place and takes her first sip. After her third, she's not sure why she came in here in the first place, after her sixth, she lays back down on the floor too tired to keep her eyes open any longer. A few more and she stops thinking all together.

"Emily."

She blinks, wincing at the harsh light from somewhere above.

"Turn off the lights," she growls angrily, not sure who she's even talking to. There's no answer, but it becomes dark again. When she opens her eyes she finds herself sitting on the floor in Rossi's office. A bottle of bourbon in her hands. Nearly empty.

"Emily?"

She looks up and directly in Rossi's eyes. "Are you alright?" he asks her softly.

"No," Emily says. "I'm not."

.

"Are you in trouble?" Garcia stops her in the hallway when she's on her way to the bathroom.

"Excuse me?" Emily blinks.

"Don't get me wrong," Garcia starts. "I'm happy you're back, but-" She stops, looks down at her hands and back up at Emily. "You've changed."

Emily shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips. "No, Garcia. It's you, you and the whole team, you've changed. I'm the only one who still hasn't."

Garcia looks like she wants to say something else, but Emily shakes her head pleadingly before she hurries away. Glad that Garica doesn't follow.

It feels too much like déjà vu.

.

"We miss you," Aaron tells her. He's sitting across from her on the jet, his dark eyes watching her carefully and Emily isn't sure what to answer.

"I'm here now," she tells him, looking up at him and back down at the file on her lap.

"No," Aaron shakes his head. "You're not. And I'm not sure you ever were to begin with."

.

Emily heads back to London the day JJ comes back from maternity leave, slips away like the last time, without so much as a goodbye

**.**

* * *

**VI**

**-Chasing A Ghost-**

**.**

Quietly Emily stares out of her office and into the gray London morning.

There's a flower in her hand, a lilac Freesia she found in the top drawer of her desk . Together with a note, scribbled down in a handwriting only she would be able to recognize. A note only she would understand.

She knows it's him. Watching and hiding, always one step ahead of her. Waiting.

He's dead, buried six feet under and yet he isn't. She should have known that it had been just another empty grave.

_Tu es pleine de surprises dis donc?_

.

The penthouse is dark and cold and quiet. Clyde gone, somewhere in Prague. Working. At least that's what he told her. But she wouldn't blame him for lying.

They haven't _talked_  to each other since she came back from DC, with a scar on her wrist she didn't want to explain.

With a gun in her hand she settles down in the hallway, staring at the closed door.

_Waiting and wondering why she isn't dead, yet._

.

Emily wakes up with a start, a scream dying on her lips when she finds herself staring into a familiar face. A set of deep blue eyes eyeing her worriedly.

"What are you doing here?" she gasps.

Clyde laughs. "I could ask you the same."

Emily blinks. It takes her a moment to gather her surroundings. Confused she realizes she's sitting in the hallway of their penthouse, the gun in her hands aimed at Clyde's chest. She blinks again, watches quietly as he takes it away from her.

"What's wrong with you, darling?" he whispers softly and Emily feels a pang of guilt, remembering that he hasn't called her that in months. It's her fault, not his.

"I don't-" Emily starts and stops, when she catches sight of a lilac Fressia, next to her on the floor.

.

"Did you know?" Tom snaps the second she comes to a halt next to his table. He looks angry and worried, the dark circles under his eyes telling her he hasn't slept in a while.

"Excuse me?"

Instead of an answer, Tom pushes a stack of photos in her direction. Emily feels the color drain from her face.

"Where did you get those?" she whispers, staring at the familiar features of Ian Doyle. His hair longer, dyed pitch black. A three-day-stubble on his chin, pale blue eyes staring right into the camera. The same face she'd seen a few months ago in a bar in DC.

"How is this possible?" she asks, her fingers hovering over the pictures, afraid he'll disappear the second she touches it.

Tom scoffs. "You tell me, Emily. You said it was over, you said you saw him die."

 _I did,_  Emily thinks. Remembering that moment all too well. But she remembers something else too, something she hadn't told anyone. That the FBI agent bending down next to Ian to check his pulse, hadn't been one.

"You already knew."

Emily looks up startled and finds Tom staring at her. His eyes wide in horror and disbelief and she wonders what gave her away.

"You already knew that he's alive, didn't you?"

"Tom-"

"No, Emily. No." He shakes his head at her, tearing the picture out of her hand. "Did you help him?" he spits angrily. "Is that the reason you wanted me to enroll Declan in Eton? Why you wanted me to leave the States and come here so badly?"

Emily shakes her head. "No, Tom, that's not what happened-" she starts, but Tom cuts her off.

"You better remember which side you're on, Emily. Before it's too late."

.

She's tired. Exhausted and yet so restless that she can't lay down. Her hands are trembling, but her eyes keep falling shut.

She's standing in the bathroom, her hands around the sink. Listening to the water running and to her heart beating painfully in her chest. She needs to sleep, but she doesn't dare to close her eyes.

She's waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for Tom to call Clyde, waiting for Tom to spill the truth. She thought about telling him herself, but she can't bring herself to do so. Yet, she can't explain why. Because Tom had been right. She has to remember who she is. Has to remember that Lauren Reynolds never existed.

_But it's a lie. Isn't it?_

Lauren had never been the problem. _Emily was._

She looks up and meets her own gaze in the mirror above the sink, a familiar voice whispering in her head:  _"You miss her too, love, don't you?"_

**.**

* * *

**VII**

**-Let The Ocean Take Me-**

**.**

They spent the weekend in Cornwall, in the old manor house Clyde's father owns. It's been years since Emily has been there, yet it looks the same.

She's staring at the tree house from down on the green lawn, thinking about the first time she'd climbed up there as a kid. Thinking about all the summers they spent here.  _Clyde and her._

Their first kiss, the first time it became more than just that. She remembers all the secrets they shared, back up there, right under a starlit summer night. And she feels tears well up in her eyes, at the memories. Hates to admit that what she'd had with Clyde, isn't the same anymore. Hasn't been, since she she walked out of his office a lifetime ago, with a passport in her bag telling her that she wasn't Emily Prentiss anymore.

.

The beach is empty, the gulls the only other living creatures close by and Emily stares out at the ocean, stares until the sky and the water blur into one. She watches the angry waves crash against the shore, thinks about throwing herself in. Allowing the water to take her, _to drift and float,_  in the embrace of the current.

But it's winter, the water freezing. The tide too strong. She's a good swimmer, but she wouldn't stand a chance against the churning sea.  _She would drown._

"No."

Emily turns, surprised to find herself halfway into the water, and even more to find Clyde standing right behind her. His hand around her wrist the only thing between her and the Atlantic.

"No," he tells her again and Emily thinks that sometimes she hates how well he knows her.

.

Ian shows up out of nowhere, the next morning when she's walking down the beach. Standing with his back against the ocean, a smug smile on his face. His pale blue eyes staring back at her without blinking.

"Hello, love."

Emily reaches for her gun, the one she doesn't carry anymore.  _There are different laws here._

Ian shakes his head _._ "Not this time," he tells her dryly. He looks calm and composed, his hands buried in the pockets of his black coat, while he walks closer toward her.

Instinctively Emily steps back, her hair dancing in the breeze, the air tasting like salt on her lips. Ian regards her with a mischievous smile, his hand reaching for her face and Emily feels the urge to take another step back. But this time she doesn't.

He bends forward slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. His breath caressing her face like a lover's kiss.

"I missed you," he tells her softly and Emily feels herself shiver in excitement and fear and horror. She should run or scream or both, but she does neither.

"You didn't die," she whispers instead.

Ian laughs. A warm and familiar laugh, his pale blue eyes glistening in the sunlight that shines down from a cloudless winter sky.

"Of course not," he bends even closer, his lips briefly touching hers. "I would never leave you."

Emily isn't sure if it's a threat or a promise.

_Maybe it's neither._

**.**

* * *

**VIII**

**-A Promise Never Made-**

**.**

She's on her way to a meeting when she gets the call from the police.

Clyde's already there, when she arrives at Tom's house in Berkshire. Standing outside in the freezing cold, a constant drizzle soaking his black coat.

"Emily, don't," he tells her. His voice firm, his eyes worried, trying to hold her back. But instead of listening, Emily pushes past him.

They tell her it had been some random break-in, but Emily already knows it hasn't. She stares at Tom's lifeless body, left in a puddle of blood, a lilac Fressia resting in his open palm.

.

"I'm sorry," Emily tells Declan two hours later.

She's standing with her back against the door to his study-bedroom, Declan looking out of the window. Lost and broken.

"I'm so sorry, Declan, " she says again. Meeting his gaze in the window pane. "I'm so sorry."

The boy says nothing.

.

"Are you going to be my guardian now? " Declan asks her after the funeral. He seems tired, his eyes empty and just as blue as  _his father's._ Those words the first he spoke since she told him that Tom was gone.

"She will," Clyde answers for her from behind the wheel. "Won't you, darling?" He meets her gaze in the rearview mirror. It's brief, but Emily's still seen the hint of pain and regret flash through his.

"I will," she hears herself promise, thinking that she should have answered that ten years ago when Ian had asked her first. She wonders if it would have changed something, if it would have made a difference.

**.**

* * *

**IX**

**-Everyone's To Blame, But I'm The Guilty One-**

**.**

One night he's just there, waiting for her when she comes home. Standing in front of the floor length windows of the living room, staring out into the night. It's raining, thunder roaring in the distance.

"Where's Clyde," Emily asks. Her eyes already darting through the room, _panicked,_  afraid she might find him there. Lying motionless in a puddle of his own blood.

Ian laughs, but there is no humor in it.

"It wasn't because of the life I was living," he muses, slowly turning around to face her. "That was a lie. It was because of _him_."

.

Ian comes back the next day and the day after that. Waiting for her in the shadows, pushing her back against the wall the second she comes through the door.

She doesn't fight him and not because she's afraid,  _and she is afraid,_ but because that part of her, that part that not even Clyde knows about-  _needs it._

"I love him", Emily tells Ian, again and again. His lips bruising her skin, his hands grabbing her _just right_. "I can't leave," she adds and it sounds like an apology.

Ian nods. A smug smile playing on his handsome face as if he's known all along.

"Then I'm just going to stay, love."

_._

"He came back for us, Emily," Declan tells her on a Saturday in the middle of spring. He's walking next to her, looking out at the Thames. Blonde hair framing his angelic face, a sweet reminder of the little boy he'd been once. "He wants us to be a family again."

Emily squints her eyes. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"I talked to Tom, I tried to explain it to him. But he wouldn't listen, he wouldn't understand."

Emily stops, her hand reaches for the railing of the bridge. "You-" she starts and stops.

Declan smiles. His pale blue eyes glistening in the light of the afternoon.

"I did what I had to do."

.

"We did this," Emily whispers. "This is our fault."

She's standing on the balcony, looking down onto the street. Watches the busy London traffic rush by, fighting the need to throw herself over the ledge and end her life.

Ian says nothing and Emily thinks this might be a first.

.

"I'll get Lauren," Ian breathes against her lips. "And _he_  gets to keep you. _His sweet darling,_  Emily."

It sounds like a four-letter word and Emily gasps and sobs,  _torn between want and need,_  between two voices whispering in her head. Fighting a losing battle.

"Doesn't that sound fair, love?" Ian mocks her almost tenderly and Emily feels his hands slip between her legs,  _teasing just the right spot,_  and sending her into oblivion. Her body betraying what's left of her soul with a silent scream.

**.**

* * *

**\- For I Have Sinned-**

**.**

_"I absolve you from your sins,"_ is what the priest should offer. But he doesn't. He's gone silent, deadly silent. And Emily knows. The smell of blood in the small space overwhelming.

She opens her eyes, stares down at her trembling hands.

 _"Forgive me father,"_  she whispers hoarsely. A lonely tear finding its way down her cheek.  _"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned."_

"Oh, love," Ian's voice sounds soft from through the thin wall of the confessional, where he's crouched next to the dead priest. "There is no forgiveness for what we did."

 _No_ , Emily thinks.  _There really isn't._

**_._ **

* * *

**X**

**-Let Me Atone For My Sins, Even When I Won't Find Peace-**

**.**

When she steps out of the church, the sun has disappeared behind the clouds. A freezing wind tears angrily at her hair and sends the dark strands flying. The smell of blood still lingers in her nose.

 _"Il parait que tu as beaucoup à avouer, chérie,_ " Clyde greets her with a chuckle and Emily watches as he pushes himself back from the wall.

 _Si tu savais,_ she thinks and looks up at the sound of thunder roaring in the distance. Mesmerized she watches black clouds build on the horizon, looming dangerously above her head.

"Is something wrong?" Clyde asks and when she looks back at him she finds a slight frown growing on his face. His deep blue eyes eyeing her almost carefully.

"No," Emily shakes her head, reaches forward to take his hand into her own.  _Smiles._  "Not anymore."

**.**

* * *

_._

_\- As an undercover agent, you have to tell your lies close to the truth. It's the thing you learn first._

_They tell you to be careful, to never get too close._

_They tell you that it happens though. That sometimes the lie becomes a truth you never even knew existed._

_That becoming someone else might make you realize that this is exactly who you want to be._

_That when that happens, there might be no going back to the person you once were._

_I've never told anyone how much I was longing for that to happen-_

_until now._

**.**

**.**

 


End file.
